Exploring the smoky-hued coastline at Ka'ena Point, I feel caught between two worlds. The day is over and night is ahead. The ocean spreads out to one side, and to the other is land—the beach, roads, and, further on, buildings. I step from jagged rock to spongy sand, through water, and around tide pools that crawl with creatures, the waves shush-shushing. Up ahead, a fisherman stares out to sea, uninterested in us, seemingly transfixed.

Kauai Cave

After a vigorous hike to a hidden beach, we find the perfect spot to rest and shake off the grainy sand that's stuck to our clothes and salty skin. I have just enough energy to wish we could explore the little watery cave. I imagine us on a wooden boat, leaving the bright shore behind and disappearing into a murky green world. The farther we oared, the darker and more primeval it would become. Instead, with one last look at the cave, I climb back into the car and we drive through sunlight and fresh air to our hotel.

Cemetery Pere Lachaise

We navigate the tree-lined pathways of Cemetery Père Lachaise. The quiet, the foliage, and the unstudied orderliness promote a sense of peacefulness, but the cemetery also gives rise to another feeling, like reverence or maybe fear. We arrive at the grave of the French writer Honoré de Balzac, surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. A lone, dying rose is resting against it. Though I'm only vaguely familiar with Balzac's work, I feel touched by his genius, just as I feel touched by his mortality.

Airplane through Window

The shuttle picked me up at 5:45 a.m. EST. I slept on the way to the airport. When I got to the terminal, I had enough time for a quick breakfast and then I walked across a covered bridged to the gate. In the bridge the light changed from dim to clear, and when I looked outside, the sun was brilliant, burning up the fog that cloaked the runway, the planes, and the semi-tropical brush on the horizon. I paused for a minute to take in the sight and then I headed to my gate, and home.

Mont Saint-Michel

A rocky island sits at the edge of a bay, sometimes on land, sometimes surrounded by water. It's said that forces exerted by the sun and moon control the tides, and you definitely sense heavenly bodies at work on this sometimes-island. From a distance, the stone paths, walls, and surrounding blockade merge with the mossy rock that supports them. Once inside, the many hallways, paths, windows, towers, and rooms give the impression of so much more to explore on this small patch of land, while up on the roof, you take in expansive views of silt planes. Despite the noise and busyness of a major tourist attraction, your skin tingles at the idea of being stranded on Mont-Saint Michel, nothing but water in every direction, the sounds of monk chants reverberating off the walls and disappearing into the bay.

Sunset Boulevard

As I walk down Sunset Boulevard toward Chateau Marmont, I notice a proliferation of the color pink. Raspberry lips on billboards, fuchsia bougainvillea spilling over cement walls. Pepto-Bismol and magenta façades. Bubble gum and carnation and cotton candy. Pink, pink, pink. Once I notice it, I can't not see it. Even the name has me thinking pink. It's a wild revelry, a carnival of color, that says more, more, more.

Cinque Terre

As I walked the worn trail toward the village of Vernazza in Cinque Terre, I looked toward rugged mountains on the one side, some painstakingly cultivated by traditional farmers, and a steep, rocky drop to mermaid green water on the other. You feel half-tempted to respond to that deep-sea Siren call with one wide-armed jump, but are pulled back to reality by dusty earth, terraced vineyards, and a well-trodden path to a colorful, welcoming village.